


Mourn Me

by outbackrat



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-11-02 10:34:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10942731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outbackrat/pseuds/outbackrat
Summary: Drabble prompted with two words: mourn me.





	Mourn Me

Red dust, stirred by a new gust of wind, fell short when it struck the side of the overturned truck. It had been close to three days since the wheels had stopped spinning, but the stink of the leaked petrol lingered. It hid another smell, a far more sinister one, that Junkrat had dismissed as a figment of his imagination.

Around the vehicle, there were tracks and furrows made in the dirt where the shorter junker had been restlessly pacing. He wasn’t alone, not _really_ , but it frustrated him that his company refused to quit acting so stubborn – and break the silence, say something. Roadhog knew better than anyone just how stubborn Junkrat _himself_ could be, too, so Junkrat had taken it as a challenge. Anything to get an answer from his bodyguard. He could outlast Roadhog.

“Is  _this_ how it’s goin’ to be? You gonna let me do the talking for once, if we can flag down the next bloke to stop? Sure, _**fine**_ , let me do all the hard work. You, you just sit there, and don’t bust a gut. I’ll do everything, shall I?”

Aiming a kick at a loose rock, his intended target striking the dented door of the truck, Junkrat settled heavily against the side to stare out across to the deserted highway. The metal was warm, getting hot from the sun, this near to midday; the sharpness of the pain was a new addition to the collection of older aches that plagued his body. Poorly healing cuts and scrapes, bruises, had lost their novelty early on into their inspection.

In the coolness of the shade behind rhe truck, the shadow of his partner was merging with the wreck’s bulk. A darker pool, a muddy shape, underneath the silent junker joined the two.

Turning his gaze away from the harsh glare of the bitumen, bending down, Junkrat picked up the broken scrap that used to be his prosthetic arm. Wiping some sweat that had trickled down over his brow into his eyes, hair lank and plastered to his scalp, Junkrat let out a shaky breath, irritated by Roadhog’s silence.

Returning to stand nearer to the dark shadows, raising the broken limb to sweep at the air, disturbing a cloud of flies that rose up from inside the cabin. Fresh tears weren’t held in check as he weakly barked out a short laugh, raising his boot and bringing it down hard to squash some maggots into the ground, his tone disbelieving, _incredulous_.

“I’ve been flat out cleaning up the mess _you’ve_ made, and _you’ve_ given me more work! _FLIES!_ I can’t bloody well flog anything to pay for our ride if you won’t lend me a hand to salvage.”

Spinning around on the spot to retrace his steps to the front of the wreck, his footsteps nearly falling into the exact same worn prints, swinging the useless arm by its elbow. Passing by the decomposing corpse of Roadhog, wrinkling his nose at the putrid stench, Junkrat hadn’t accepted the accident that had thrown their life into turmoil, and kept his eyes averted from the bloated corpse.

Voice breaking, the bomber kept up his sentry duty, impatiently waiting for any chance to wave down a passing motorist. Even if his body guard refused to _help_ , staying under the truck, out of the heat.

“S-soon as we get outta here, you an’ me, _first thing_ , we’re gonna hit the piss, an' forget  **any** of this ever happened.“


End file.
